War Stories
by Breakaway25
Summary: Sarge never told the people of Radiator Springs much about his military service, but when an old friend comes to town with troubling news, he finds himself reliving the past. From the invasion of Normandy to the Battle of the Bulge this is the first in a series of stories of WWII told through the world of Cars. Slight crossovers with various novels. Please read and review.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This story is about Sarge's military career, and WWII and the Korean War in the Car's world. I'm having to fill in a lot of gaps so don't jump on me if I get something wrong.

Disclaimer: I do not own any characters that I do not own.

* * *

It was a normal day in Radiator Springs. The sun was at it peak, and the temperature in the town was approaching sweltering levels. The town's residents were lazing around Flo's cafe mostly trying to beat the heat. They were relatively alone that day, few tourists wanted to make the trip out to the Arizonian desert. But they watched the occasional car make its way through town. They even had a little game going. Because of the layer of dust finely spread over the road into town any car approaching would kick up a fairly large cloud of dust. They would try to guess what type of car would come over the hill next.

As a new cloud of dust appeared on the horizon the townsfolk made new guesses. "Chevy Cavalier," Lightning McQueen guessed.

"Buick Enclave," guessed Sally.

"Uh, a tow truck," Mater guessed

"Aw, Mater you guess that every time," McQueen replied. The noise from the car's engine could now be made out. It was clearly a diesel from the low growl that came over the hill, but the noise of the engine was accompanied by a rapid click-click-clicking noise that none of the cars could place.

"What is that?" asked Flo.

"I ain't never heard nu-thin like that before," remarked Mater.

"No, it can't be," muttered Sarge.

"What," asked McQueen. But before Sarge could reply the mystery car made its way over the small hill outside of town.

"It is," Sarge muttered. The car was like nothing the townspeople had ever seen before. It was painted in a flat army olive green, and had a sharply angled grill with a large white star painted in the center. As the car came closer the source of the clicking noise could be determined. Instead of having a set of rear wheels the car had a small pair of caterpillar tracks.

"What is that," asked Sheriff.

"That," replied Sarge, "Is a M3 Half track."

The approaching M3 pulled into the cafe next to Sarge and said, "Well Sargent Major its been a while."

"Johnny, is that you," Sarge exclaimed.

"Aw, come on we jumped into Salerno together, we we landed in Normandy together, and who gave you fire support when you dragged Robbie back to Bastogne."

Seeing the unasked question in the eyes of the other cars Sarge explained, "Staff Sergeant-"

"Major," the M3 interupted

"Major Johnson Cannty and me served together in war two and then again in Korea. So Johnny

as much as I would like to reminisce what brings you here." Sarge asked.

"Actually a rather somber subject. Colonel Crawling died last Thursday. He wanted guys from the old unit to serve in his honor guard." Johnson replied.

"Arlington."

"Where else. Let me know if you want to come back with me, and in the mean time is there a place around here where I can spend the night."

"I think that I might be able to help with that," said Sally, "Follow me." As Johnson turned around to follow her out of the cafe the townsfolk noticed a small light blue rectangle dotted with white stars painted on his tailgate.

"Well son I think you have some explaining to do," remarked Sheriff.

Sarge sighed then explained, "Colonel, then Captain, Crawling was my company commander during WWII. He was a very good car and a close friend of mine; I served as his platoon sergeant during the early months of the Korean war. He requested me to serve on his honor guard for his burial at Arlington National Cemetery."

"What about Johnson, and what was that on his tailgate," asked McQueen.

"That was a symbol denoting the fact that he was awarded the Congressional Medal of Honor for bravery above and beyond the call of duty." Answering the question before anyone could ask Sarge continued, "About a day after we landed in Normandy we ran into heavy enemy resistance. At one point forward elements of our division were surrounded by German forces. Johnson, with full knowledge of the dangers, repeatedly made his way through the enemy lines to bring ammunition to the surrounded forces, and to tow wounded cars back to the field hospital. By the time the surrounded forces were relieved Johnson had made fifteen trips. He was awarded the medal later the next mouth.

"So wha'cha gonna do now," Asked Mater.

"Why I'm going to Arlington in the mourning," Sarge replied, without thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Soon after Sarge relayed his interest in attending the funeral he left Flo's and returned to his surplus store. The remaining townsfolk were engaged in a conversation about what to do with Sarge After a brief discussion Lightning left to go to Sarge's store. Carefully entering Sarge's store he asked, "Hey Sarge, are you alright?"

"Yes, McQueen I'm fine," he replied brusquely. McQueen noticed that Sarge was rooting around in several boxes laid out on a table. Sarge was slowly pulling various accoutrements that accompanied a army dress uniform out of the boxes. "Sarge the guys wanted me to ask if it would be alright if some of us came with you to Washington," Lightning asked softly.

Sarge thought for a moment before replying, "It would be my pleasure if you would accompany me."

Suddenly Johnson's voice spoke out behind them, "You know the last time you said something like that Sargent Major, was when you were trying to get me to jump out of that B-24 over Cherbourg." Sarge chuckled remembering the incident in question.

He paused for a moment before asking, "When did you want to leave tomorrow?"

"Somewhere around 0630. I have bookings on a flight out of Phoenix at 1330. I can get more tickets If you would like," Johnson replied.

"Well Lightning if you can have everyone ready to go at 0630 you can come along," Sarge said to Lightning. Lightning nodded his understanding and left the store.

Sarge continued to dig around in the boxes apparently looking for something in particular. "You looking for this?" Johnson asked holding up a small blue, rectangular case that had fallen to the floor. Looking up from his search Sarge nodded and took the case from Johnson. He opened the case and inspected its contents. Inside the case rested a small gold cross with a large eagle in its center. Below the eagle was a small scroll that simply read, "_For Valor_." It was suspended from a blue ribbon flanked by bands of red.

Sarge sighed to himself, then said, "Who would have thought all those years ago that we would turn into a pair of genuine American heroes."

"Do you remember where it all started."

"Yeah, November of '41 at Fort Benning, we had both volunteered for Colonel Crawling's lash-up," Sarge replied.

"Probably for the same reason, that extra jump pay," Johnson replied chuckling.

"Hey I went into the Army right out of high school. I needed all the extra money I could get," Sarge retorted. "Yeah I can remember it like it happened yesterday."

A/N: Sorry for the short chapter but I needed to finish the buildup phase of the story. The next chapter will be longer I promise. The rest of the story will be told from Sarge's perspective in 1941 with the occasional switch back to the present day.

According to Pixar Sarge was awarded the Grille Badge of True Mettle during the Battle of the Bulge. Now Pixar is notorious for changing the names of militarily related topics(take the fact that in Planes they changed Guadalcanal into Glendaclanal) so I am going to change things so they reflect things that really happened during WWII. So for those of you who have not served in the US armed forces the medal that Sarge looked at is a Distinguished Service Cross the second highest award for bravery after the Medal of Honor.


	3. Chapter 3

**3, June, 1942, B Company Barracks, Fort Benning, GA**

"ALRIGHT YOU WORTHLESS CLUNKERS, OUT OF BED," screamed Corporal Rod Hammerstein, the NCO in charge of company B's barracks, as the sounds of reveille being played on a bugle filled the barracks. The room filled with activity as thirty Jeeps got up and rolled off of their mats, standing at stiff attention. "Alright now we have a fun, action packed day ahead of us. All soldiers will report to rifle range baker at 0700. Do I need to remind you to bring your pieces, cleaned and oiled? You have until then, _Dismissed_," growled the salty old Studebaker truck, before he rolled out of the room.

The barrack's occupants got to work. Each one retrieved their rifles from its place of honor in their beds. A resounding chorus of metallic clacking sounded throughout the barracks as each Jeep cycled the action of his rifle to make absolutely sure that is was not loaded. After slamming the bolt closed Private William Kennesy began the process of disassembling his Rifle Caliber .30 M1.

Known as the Garand after its inventor John Garand, a civilian working under government contract at the Springfield Armory, the M1 rifle was a semi-automatic .30-06 rifle designed as a replacement for the older, bolt operated M1903 rifle. The M1 was a vast improvement over the M1903, it could hold eight rounds in a metallic en-bloc clip to the M1903's five round stripper clip, and due to the fact that it was semi-automatic a trained rifleman could fire all eight shots successively without breaking his line of aim.

After Kennesy had stripped, cleaned, and resembled his piece he took it and a web cartridge pouch full of the .30-06 en-bloc clips that the rifle used, and left the barracks to go get breakfast. Inside the mess hall there was a thick layer of unspoken tension. Today the new privates would be firing for permanent record. There success, or failure, could play a key role in what units they were sent to at the end of their training.

After company B had finished their breakfasts they formed up just outside of the mess hall. They stood at parade rest with their rifles at sling arms waiting for Corporal Hammerstein to take command of the company. Hammerstein made his way to the front of the platoon and, after a brief inspection, led the troops down the road to the known-distance rifle range. Halting the formation short of the range's perimeter fence he called out to the range master. After receiving permission to enter the range he told the platoon, "This will be you one chance to fire for record. You will all leave this range with either a marksman, sharpshooter, or expert rating. Those of you who fail to qualify for any of these rantings might – I stress might – be allowed to try again. But no one will be given a third chance. So for everyone's sanity qualify today."

After his speech he rattled of a list of fifteen Jeeps who were to follow him into the range. Luckily or unluckily William was on that first list. He was confident that he could score enough points to qualify as at least a marksman and probably as expert. He had spent the last two weeks learning his rifle inside and out, coming to accept it as an extension of his own body. He rolled up to the space that the range officer had assigned him, and drove onto the firing line. When the command was given to "Mount arms" He dropped the rifle into its holder on his side door. The command came, "Load arms," and William racked the M1's bolt back and dropped in a eight round en bloc clip. As he seated the clip the action slammed forward with a sharp _Clack_, signifying that the rifle was ready to fire. He sat and waited for the range master to give the next commands, "Ready on the left, ready on the right, you may commence firing."

William raised the rifle to his face and lined the peep sight up with the center off the target. He had spent considerable time zeroing in his piece so he knew that his shots would fly true. He lined up the shot, let out a half breath, the squeezed the trigger. The rifle responded with a sharp _Crack_ as it let fly a .30-06 caliber round. William could hear the other Jeeps as they began to fire at their targets, but he ignored them and focused on his own. Kennesy fired off a second shot, then a third. When he fired off his eighth and final shot the Garand's action locked back and the en bloc ejected out of the rifle with a loud _Ping_. He lowered his rifle to his side and waited for the range master to signal cease fire. When the rest of the shooters had finished firing and the cease fire had been given, Kennesy followed the rest of the shooters to the end of the range to retrieve his target. Glancing quickly at the paper as he rolled back to the range master's hut, he noticed that all eight of his shots were in the center black area. He scribbled his name on the target, dropped it on the range master's table, and proceeded back to his barracks.

* * *

**8, September, 1941**, **U.S. Parachute Training School, Fort Benning, GA**

Three months and four more firings for record Private William Kennesy was enrolled in the brand new Parachute Training School, a part of the redesignated 502nd infantry regiment. After his first firing Corporal Hammerstein came to Kennesy and told him that he was one of the best shots that he had ever seen. He also told him about the parachute school. Hammerstein had been instructed to pass along the cream of his crop of recruits to the new parachute school, and he considered Kennesy to be right at the top. The change of billets entailed long hours of classroom study, a dangerous training routine, and a requirement for a minimum of five parachute jumps. But he would earn an extra $50 a month for jump pay, and upon graduation from the course, a set of Corporal's stripes. Kennesy had jumped at the offer partially for the extra pay and partially for the new set of stripes.

Now here he was sitting in the hold of a C-47 Skytrain,waiting for the light above the open door to turn green. When it did he was supposed to drive out of the open door, into the pitch black knight, and hope that the large parachute on his back did its job. The light flashed for a second, indicating thirty seconds till jump. He raised himself of the floor and prepared to go. When the light finally turned green he raced forward, out into nothing. He felt a sickening sensation as he plummeted to the earth, then a slight tug as the static line started to deploy his chute. He heard the silk canopy slide out of its canvas bag, and steeled himself for the coming jerk. His harness suddenly bit into his side, signaling that the parachute had opened fully and was slowing his descent.

The moment that he felt his wheels touch the ground he gunned his motor and drove forward to dampen the shock of landing. He automatically yanked on the riser tabs to spill the remaining air out of the limp chute. He drove over his chute and began to gather up the yards of silk lying on the ground. When he had the silk in a, relatively, tight bundle, he drove back to the quartermaster building so that one of the chute handlers could repack it.

He had done it. He had completed five successful jumps, including one night jump, and was now entitled to wear the silver wings of a parachutist. When he left the quartermaster building he heard someone call, "Private Kennesy may I have a moment of your time." Kennesy turned to see a Jeep siting by himself. Kennesy had no idea what to do until he noticed that the Jeep was wearing the twin silver bars of a Captain. Kennesy without thinking saluted his superior officer.

When the Captain returned his salute Kennesy asked, "Sir, what is it?"

"Private my name is Captain Crawling, and I have just been given command of a new unit and told to take anyone from the parachute school that I wanted. Your outstanding performance with the M1 and you ability to lead a squad brought you to my attention. I need cars like you in my new outfit."

Kennesy stood shocked for a moment before asking, "Sir, what is you unit."

"Well on the books you will be a member of the 509th parachute regiment, 82nd infantry division, but unofficially you will be working for me," Crawling replied.

"And what is that?"

"Straight poop?" Crawling asked.

"Straight poop," Kennesy replied.

"Why private my unit is tasked with finding new and imaginative ways to use paratroops in the field of combat."

"Such as," Kennesy asked incredulously.

"Such as finding out how much firepower we can stuff into and then drop out of a transport. And finding out how to generally make paratroops more effective in the field."

Kennesy made up his mind, then said, "Where do I sign, Captain?"

* * *

The flight from Phoenix took longer that anyone thought it would. When Sarge got up the next morning he found Lightning, Sally, Mater, and, oddly enough, Fillmore ready to accompany him. After a spirited debate in Phoenix about whether or not Johnson was to heavy to board the plane, they all boarded on schedule. And after eight hours on a five hour flight they arrived at Dulles international airport.

After that had found suitable hotel rooms, Johnson told Sarge that some of the other cars who had served under Colonel Crawling were going to meet at a local restaurant for sort of a reunion. Sarge agreed to attend only if the other residents of Radiator Springs were allowed to go with him. Johnson chuckled and replied that he was going to tell Sarge that they were more than welcome to come.

When they arrived at the restaurant Sarge was shocked at the amount of cars there. Everywhere , he looked there were Jeeps, ¾ ton, and 2 ½ ton trucks. There was even a pair of airplanes in the back of the room. An F4U Corsair was in the middle of a conversation with an F6F hellcat. He recognized the Corsair and rolled over to have a word. As he approached the Corsair and was just about to speak when he heard a voice behind him say, "Well if it isn't Sergeant Major Kennesy." Sarge turned to see a Dodge ¾ ton weapons carrier behind him. It took him a minute before he recognized the truck.

"Why if it isn't Colonel McCoy. How've you been Colonel," Sarge replied.

Hearing the voice the Corsair turned and said, "Better look out Sarge, the Killer hasn't been in a good mood since he got himself booted out of the Corps."

The Dodge's eyes suddenly grew cold as he turned and said to the Corsair, "You know, Major, Pickering if I didn't know you better I could almost tell you in good consciousness what a low person you are."

"Then I guess it's a good thing you know me better," the Corsair chuckled. Sarge noticed that McQueen had driven up behind him, with Sally in tow.

Sarge turned to Colonel McCoy, who was still glaring at the plane, and said, "Colonel McCoy these are my friends. Lightning, Sally this is Colonel Ken McCoy. And the Corsair over there, who is going to regret the rest of the evening, is Major Pick Pickering."

McCoy turned and looked at the two newcomers then said, " Its a pleasure to meet you both. And Lightning, I a big fan of your racing."

"Thank you its always a pleasure to meet a fan," replied Lightning cordially.

Sally looked at the McCoy and asked, "Were you with Sarge in the Army?"

"Hardly Ma'am, me and chuckles over there were in the Marine Corps. Sargent Kennesy served under me in Korea ," replied McCoy.

"Sargent Kennesy?" asked McQueen.

Sarge replied before McCoy could speak, "That's my name." Sarge continued his conversation with the two Marines.

* * *

**A/N:** Kudos to anyone who can figure out where I stole those two at the end from. Oh and before I forget, **Disclaimer**: I don't own Cars or a certain novel which from whom I stole characters.

I will try to update when I can but school and the laws of physics(you'll see what I mean latter) tend to get in the way.


	4. Chapter 4

**10, September, 1941 Headquarters, Special Detachment 15**

Corporal Kennesy had a problem. Due to his expertise with firearms he had been put in charge of weapons procurement for the newly formed Special Detachment 15. His job was to figure out just exactly how to drop the amount of firepower that Captain Crawling wanted from a plane. He had quickly figured out that the old 75mm pack howitzer could easily be air dropped, but it was a crew served weapon. That meant that each gun needed at least two, three was better, Jeeps to load and fire the weapon. That was two Jeeps who could not serve as rifleman, and the unit was short handed as it was. And to make matters worse the 75mm pack howitzer currently had no armor piercing rounds, which meant that they were only useful against armored targets with a direct hit.

He had read reports of an Army study about the feasibility of mounting the newer 37mm M3 anti-tank gun on the back of a Dodge WC truck. That might help increase the overall firepower of the unit, but the larger 57mm M1 would be much more useful for countering the thicker armor of the newer tanks. Unfortunately when the larger gun had been mounted to a WC volunteer the force of the cannon's recoil would flip the unlucky car on its side. The smallest vehicle that the M1 could be mounted to effectively was the M3 half track, but the M3 was an armored vehicle which meant that it was to heavy for any current transport aircraft.

His train of thought was interrupted when Captain Crawling's platoon sergeant stuck his hood in Kennesy's quarters an said, "Captain wants to see you corporal."

Kennesy sighed before replying, "Alright, sergeant give me a minute." The sergeant nodded his approval then left. Kennesy dropped his remaining papers and left for Captain Crawling's office. When he entered he raised his eyes the prescribed six inches above Crawling's roof and barked, "Corporal William Kennesy reporting to the Captain as ordered, Sir."

"At ease Corporal," Crawling replied, then continued, "Corporal I need you to go evaluate a few more recruits for the unit. They sent me a list of potentials," Crawling said as he slid a sheet of carbon paper to Kennesy then continued, "You know what to do, Dismissed." Kennesy scanned the list as he left the headquarters. Making his way over to where the recruits had been lined up, he surveyed the line of five cars. There were three Jeeps, who wore the single chevron of a Private, one Dodge WC, who wore the single chevron and rocker stripe of a Private First Class or PFC, and one M3 half track, who wore the dual chevrons of a Corporal. Kennesy sized up the new cars while trying his hardest to play the part of a salty old Corporal.

Randomly he stopped in front of the M3 and barked, "What is your name Corporal?"

"Johnson, Johnson Cannty." Kennesy was about to bark at him about not appending Sir to the end of his sentence when he remembered that the M3 was also a corporal.

He replied, "Very well Corporal Cannty, what are you doing volunteering for parachute duty?"

Cannty hesitated for a moment before replying, "Sir I want to do my part."

Taken aback by Cannty's response Kennesy stopped for a minute before addressing the five, "All right report inside to the G-2 sergeant. Cannty, stay here I need to talk to you." As the rest of the recruits went into the headquarters Corporal Cannty stayed behind. Kennesy looked at him for a moment before asking, "How does a M3 Corporal end up volunteering for parachute duty?"

"Well it was either this or spend the next four years hauling ammo from hear to Fort Bragg and back."

Kennesy chuckled before replying, "I can see the problem. Come on I'll buy you a drink." Cannty nodded and followed Kennesy to the base's NCO club. When they were inside Kennesy gestured for the bartender. "Two pints of oil please." The bartender nodded and went to get the beverages. Kennesy turned to Cannty and said, "You do know your to heavy to be a paratrooper."

Cannty looked shocked as he replied, "I am." The bartender returned with the drinks and dropped them in front of the two corporals.

Kennesy continued, "Yeah by about 4 tonnes, we would have to strip your armor, but then what could we do with you," he trailed of as an idea came to mind. "Corporal, I think I just came up with a solution."

* * *

**20, September, 1941, Headquarters, Special Detachment 15**

Corporal Cannty felt like a new car. After the plan was run by Captain Crawling, Kennesy took Cannty to the base medic and told him to strip every excess pound off of Cannty's chassis that he could. The medic ended up building a new rear bed for Cannty that was several feet shorter that his original. When the medic was done Kennesy managed to get his hands on a brand new 57mm M1. He took Cannty to one of the base armorers and explained his idea to the armorer. When he came back in a hour the armorer explained what he had done. He had removed the M1 from its wheelbase and fitted it to a traverse mount. He then mounted the gun in Cannty's bed and fixed it so that it would only point forward. The gun mount was then modified so that Cannty could aim, fire, and reload the cannon by himself. When it was everything was said and done Corporal Cannty went from being a armored troop/cargo carrier to being a mobile anti-tank gun.

Kennesy now had the firepower that he wanted and he didn't have to remove any troops from the unit's infantry contingent. Now he had to figure out how to transport the modified M3 to the battlefield. A C-47 could haul Cannty's reduced weight but the M3 couldn't fit through the aircraft's door. Then he had another idea. He proceeded to type it up on a piece of paper, then he went to present it to Captain Crawling. After Crawling read Kennesy's report he nodded his approval then turned to make a phone call.

* * *

**5, November, 1941, Fort Benning Airspace**

"You all right back there corporal?" Asked 1st Lieutenant Peter Rowling an Army Air Corps(AAC) B-24 Liberator.

"Never better, lieutenant," replied Corporal Cannty, a little shakily. He was currently suspended from a makeshift harness in Lieutenant Rowling's bomb bay. Kennesy had come up with the system, the B-24 was one of the only aircraft that was powerful enough to carry Cannty and was able to drop him through the existing bomb bay. The large bomber was even able to carry extra food and ammo along with the modified half track.

"Thirty seconds to drop," Lieutenant Rowling announced. The bomb bay doors under Cannty began to slide open, soon he was suspended above open air. "Ten seconds." Cannty steeled himself for the release. "Three, two, one," Cannty waited, but nothing happened.

"You son of a bi –," he called as he plummeted through the open door. As he fell he felt the oversized parachute on his back snake open. Then fill with air and sharply decrease his rate of descent.

When he got on the ground he found Captain Crawling and Corporal Kennesy waiting for him.  
"Well corporal, I think I like this idea," Crawling said to Kennesy.

"Sir, I don't think that it's not half bad myself," Kennesy replied.

* * *

Sarge had been joking around with the two Marines far about ten minutes when the unfamiliar F6F came up. "Sargent major I don't think I have the pleasure," he asked.

"Sargent Major William Kennesy, and you are?" Sarge responded.

"Lieutenant Commander Walter Riesling," the Hellcat replied. "I flew top cover for Major Pickering on Guadalcanal."

"Yeah, you saved my tail more than a few times," Pickering chimed in.

"Well any friend of Pick's is a friend of mine," Sarge said.


	5. Chapter 5

**0753, 7, December, 1941, Fort Benning GA**

Corporal William Kennesy was filling out paperwork. Special Detachment 15 was being transferred to the operational command of the 502nd parachute battalion. Some bureaucrat in Washington had noticed that Special Detachment 15 wasn't under the current parachute unit, the 502nd. Now Kennesy was filling out forms detailing the effective strength of the unit. He got up and went to turn on the radio sitting in the corner of the office, and then went back to his paperwork. "Number of effectives, let's see that would be – about fifty," he muttered.

Suddenly a new voice came on the radio, "We interrupt this broadcast for a breaking new bulletin. The Japanese have attacked Pearl Harbor Hawaii by air. The attack was made on all principle naval forces on the island of Oahu. Further details to follow." Kennesy was already up and out the door.

Captain Crawling was reading a newspaper when Kennesy barged in the door. "Can I help you corporal?" Kennesy ignored the query and turned on Crawling's radio. It was broadcasting pretty much the same message that Kennesy had heard moments ago.

"I repeat an attack, facilitated by the Empire of Japan, has been carried out on US Naval forces stationed at the fleet naval base, Pearl Harbor Hawaii. Further details to follow," the newscaster announced. Captain Crawling cursed.

"Corporal I want you to go get every car in this unit. I don't care if he's in his rack, on liberty, or in the fracking NCO club. We are going to war corporal, and Special Detachment 15 is going to be ready to by God fight that war. Do you get my point, alright _DISMISSED_," Crawling barked. Kennesy raced out of Crawling's office to go visit the NCO barracks.

* * *

**0932, 7, December, 1941, Known-Distance Rifle Range 1, Fort Benning GA**

Captain Crawling stood in front of a line of the personnel he commanded. "Alright, as many of you have already heard through the wonderful scuttlebutt system, the United States has been attacked by the Empire of Japan. This nation will, quite probably, be at war within a few days. So all members of this unit will have properly zeroed and functioning pieces when that time comes. All members will zero their issued rifles, and re-qualifications of the crew served .30cal and .50cal machine guns will be carried out later in the day. We have been issued three M1 75mm pack howitzers and I need volunteers for their crews. So anyone with any artillery experience will report to me aft they have zeroed their rifles. Alright get to it already," Crawling barked. The cars in the unit began to make their way towards the rifle range.

About five minutes later Corporal Kennesy drove up to the range with an M1 75mm pack howitzer in tow. Corporals Cannty and Riley–another modified half track– followed with the other two howitzers. Kennesy met up with Crawling outside the range perimeter. "I have the crew for those guns you're towing. Do you have ammo for them," Crawling asked.

"Yes sir, Corporal Cannty's carrying it," Kennesy replied.

"Alright Kennesy take command of the artillery crews and take them up to the artillery range. Did you bring shells for the guns that the M3's are carrying?"

"Yes sir, I did."

"Very well let them put a few rounds downrange for practice. Oh, and corporal, this came a little while ago, congratulations," Cannty said as he handed a manila envelope. Kennesy saluted Crawling and proceeded to lead the small gaggle of vehicles towards the artillery range. While driving he tore open the envelope and read its contents. It read: To Captain James Crawling, commander, Special Detachment 15. You are hereby notified to inform Corporal William Kennesy that he has been detached from your command. Sargent William Kennesy is assigned to your command for duties of your precedence effective immediately. Signed Colonel Arthur Wainwright G-2 502nd parachute infantry regiment.

Kennesy pulled up outside the artillery range, a large field that was pot marked with craters created by explosive artillery shells. He pulled up to one of the marked firing positions and dropped of his 75mm howitzer. He then gestured for Cannty and Riley to do the same with their howitzers. Kennesy then assigned each one of the crew to their respective howitzers. He then told Cannty to drop off the ammunition for the howitzers. After that he instructed the crews on the proper technique on how to load, fire, and recycle the 75mm Pack Howitzer M1. He then backed up and let the crew chiefs take command of their respective guns. Cannty and Riley were then led to the anti-tank range and allowed to practice with their 57mm anti-tank guns. Kennesy left the artillery range to go find the officer in charge of uniforms to get his third chevron painted on his doors.


	6. Chapter 6

**Fort Bragg Airspace , 3, March, 1942**

"Alright boys, even though this is an exercise we will treat it as if it is the real thing. You should all remember the briefing, so I won't waste time retelling details Basically get in, secure the intel, and get out. There will be enemy forces working against us today, so be on your toes. Remember your rifles are loaded with wax bullets, they shouldn't be able to damage their targets, but they will hurt like hell if you're hit by one. If you get hit you will be considered either dead or wounded depending on where the round struck. Call for a medic, he'll check the wound and tell you which," Sargent Kennesy yelled over the drone of the C-47's engines. "Alright we've got two minutes before the drop. Check your gear, check your buddy's gear, and have him check your gear." Twenty Jeeps got up and began to make final checks on the various parachuting equipment that they had strapped to themselves. "One minute to jump, hook in," Kennesy shouted. Each Jeep took the static line attached to his main parachute and attached it to the steel cable running the length of the airplane. The C-47 turned on the red indicator light in the cabin, signifying thirty seconds to drop.

The light turned green and the Jeeps began to drive out of the open door. Kennesy was serving as a platoon leader for this exercise, so he preceded his platoon out the door. The familiar sickening feeling gripped his chassis as he plummeted out of the door. The static line stretched to its limit and pulled out the large main chute. The large silk canopy filled with air and, rapidly, decelerated Kennesy's descent. As tires hit the ground Jeeps began to organize themselves into their respective units. Second Lieutenant Ryan Kinney was the ranking officer on this exercise, and he assigned each of the squads a mission to complete. Kennesy's task was to move ahead of the company and use his Jeeps to infiltrate an enemy forward control bunker. Once he held the position he would radio back and the rest of the company would move up.

He silently gestured for the rest of the Jeeps in his squad to follow him into the thick North Carolina brush. The Jeeps crawled forward, rifles at the ready, waiting for any sign of enemy movement. Kennesy poked his hood over a ridge and looked down into a small crevasse. There not two hundred yards away were two Jeeps that had been painted gray. That was the parameter of the exercise, friendly forces were green with the US star and enemy forces were gray with the German cross. Kennesy instinctively brought his rifle to his eye and lined up a shot. The rifle bucked twice and the two Jeeps went down. The rifle shot acted as a signal for all hell to break loose. The forest around him erupted with the sounds of machine gun and rifle fire, and white hot tracers arced through the brush. Kennesy flashed his taillights twice signaling his squad to follow him into the brush. He shot off down the road at the maximum safe speed, not hesitating to fire at anything that appeared in his path.

As he crested a second hill he could see it, there in front of him was a large, gray concrete structure. Outside of what was clearly the door, stood two more sentry cars. He brought his rifle up and picked them off the same way he had with the first two. With the last shot the rifle's action locked back and the clip ejected with a loud _Ping_. Kennesy cursed and ducked into cover to insert a fresh clip into the rifle. He popped back over the ridge to see that the bunker was now completely unguarded. He backed up and went to retrieve a Thompson submachine gun from one of his PFC's. When he had possession of the Thompson, he led the squad down the ridge towards the bunker. It was unguarded and its door had been flung wide open.

When he entered the bunker the sight that met his eyes shocked him. There resting on a table was the goal of the exercise, a single dark green briefcase. He grabbed the briefcase and backed out of the room. Outside the rest of the squad was waiting for him. When the squad was preparing to take off for the extraction point, a voice cut through the trees. "Did you really think it would be that easy, sargent." Spotlights snapped on, illuminating no fewer than three air cooled Browning .30 positions set up to cover the entire area outside of the bunker door. "Son of a," Kennesy muttered as the Brownings began to fire. Kennesy screamed as he felt the pain of hundreds of .30 caliber wax slugs impact his skin. It continued for a few seconds until the pain became unbearable and Kennesy's world went black.

* * *

"Oh, what happened," Sargent Kennesy groaned as he tried to lift himself off of the mat, only to have a restraining tire placed on his hood.

"Hold it for a bit sargent, that was some hit you took," called an unfamiliar, feminine voice.

"What happened," Kennesy groaned.

"They brought you in here after the exercise. You were pretty badly banged up. Apparently you got hit by the crossfire of three Browning .30's." Kennesy could make out his surroundings now. He was in an infirmary. He could now make out that the person speaking to him was a small, green sedan. She was emblazoned with a red cross on her doors, signifying that she was a nurse. She left the room for a minute and when she came back she was holding a container of oil. "Here sargent, this will make you feel better," she said as she slid the oil can over to him.

"I never got your name," Kennesy asked

"I never threw it," she replied

"Ouch, that one hurt," Kennesy said, hurt.

"It's Elizabeth Taylor, Lieutenant Taylor to you," she responded.

"Yes ma'am, I just want to say that I hope I never come in here on these conditions ever again."

"I don't know sarge, I don't think I would mind to much if you came in here again."

Captain Crawling stuck his hood in the door and said, "As much as I hat to interrupt, I need a word with Sargent Kennesy."When he entered the room Kennesy could see that he was not alone, behind him was a green truck. Captain Crawling said, "Sargent, this is Lieutenant Rowling. I think he has something to tell you. Go on Lieutenant."

"Sargent, I was in command of the machine gun teams that attacked you. I apologize if they got a little too, excessive."

"Lieutenant, permission to speak freely?" Kennesy asked.

"Of course."

"What the hell were you thinking? What was it? Three Brownings. A tad excessive?"

Crawling chuckled, then said, "I'm glad to see that you're back to your old self again. Come along Lieutenant, let's leave the sargent in peace." With that Crawling drove out of the room with lieutenant Rowling in tow.

"What was that about," Lieutenant Taylor asked.

"You didn't know what caused my injuries?" Kennesy asked, incredulously.

"No, they just brought you in here with several hundred dings in your sides."

"We were in the middle of an exercise," Kennesy explained, "I came out of a bunker and was caught in the crossfire from several machine guns. Even though they were using wax slugs, that many bullets adds up. I guess I passed out from the pain."

"Would a round of drinks, on me, make it better, Sarge," Taylor offered.

"I would be delighted, lieutenant."

* * *

Sarge had shared a few drinks with the two Marines and the Navy Hellcat before leaving to say hello to a few other cars around the room. Lightning and Sally, having no better ideas, followed him. He was going up to talk to a sargent he had worked with when he heard a voice say, "Sargent major." He turned to see a green Ford tuck. It took him a moment before recognition dawned.

"Rowling," he replied, curtly.

"I hope you have forgiven me for that incident back at Bragg all those years ago."

"Rowling I sill can't seem to understand how an officer could make such a grievous error. Now if you'll excuse me I have more important things to do." With that Kennesy left Rowling and dissolved into the crowd.


End file.
